


The Joaquin Phoenix smut nobody asked for

by limpsoul



Category: Gladiator (2000), Joker (2019), To Die For (1995)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Fleck smut, Commodus, F/M, I'm Going to Hell, Joaquin Phoenix smut, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, mullet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limpsoul/pseuds/limpsoul
Summary: we all know how much joaquin hates interviews and award ceremonies, if you didn’t know that now you do lol but anyways the context of this smut is the reader trying to calm joaquin down before an interview.
Relationships: Joaquin Phoenix/Reader, Joaquin Phoenix/You
Kudos: 10





	The Joaquin Phoenix smut nobody asked for

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the original tumblr post that’s loaded with hot gifs of daddy joaq, here’s the link!  
> https://limp-soul.tumblr.com/post/625132264654815232/the-joaquin-phoenix-smut-nobody-asked-for-joaquin

“Baby you’re gonna do great, just go out their and be your authentic self.” You reassured the troubled actor.

You watched as Joaquin’s eyes crinkled with a chuckle, “I’m wearing make up, how authentic can I be?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and invited him to sit on the tiny backstage couch, the way he was pacing around the room was making you just as anxious as him. Joaquin was very introverted, which sometimes came off as “dickish” or arrogant, but really he was an amazingly sweet guy who just happened to hate talk shows. 

He sat down on the couch and threw his head back with an exasperated sigh, “Why can’t they just let people see the movie why do I have to go up there and talk about a movie no one’s even seen yet?”

You leaned over to adjust his tie, “Because you’re funny and people like you.” You explained, chuckling at the odd combination of formal and casual wear he was flaunting. He had on a white button up with a black tie, and a black hoodie with jeans and converse. 

He smiled that Joaquin-esque smile--the shy one where his eyes light up and he looks down at his lap--and whispered, “You mean it?”

These were the moments where his true character came out, a humble, adorable, vulnerable human being. You took his clean shaven face in your hands and waited for him to look up at you with those piercing green eyes, “Every word.”

He still had a bit of a mullet from To Die For and you let one of your hands slip down the back of his neck to stroke his curls. He pulled you onto his lap and you giggled, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling away to study the smirk plastered on his face.

“What?” You asked playfully, looking at the way his eyes sparkled mischievously. 

“I’m just thinking about all the things I’m gonna do to you when we get home.” He blurted, letting his fingers travel down to caress the small of your back.

You bit your bottom lip as a smile crossed your face, looking into his eyes as you rolled your hips just a tiny bit to lean towards his ear. It was enough to make his breath catch in his throat as you whispered, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

You promptly sat up and adjusted your skirt before giving him one last once-over and leaving the room.

Joaquin drew in a deep breath and raked his fingers through his long black hair, “Fuck.” he said quietly to himself. He wished this stupid interview would hurry up so he could go home and ram you over every surface in the house. 

Right on queue, a stage manager popped into the break room and ushered him into the interview. You watched from behind the camera as he strolled into the tiny, dimly lit room with his hands laced together in front of him. Your nostrils flared with a smirk as you realized why he did that. 

He bent down to shake the interviewers hand before situating himself on the chair they provided. As the cameras started rolling, you tuned out the monotone droning of the interviewer and found your attention fixated on the veins in Joaquin’s hands, and the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he talked. 

It was a typical Joaquin interview: he made lots of snarky comments intermingled with dry humor, and lots of silent pauses.

Time crawled as you waited for it to wrap up; you anxiously bounced your leg as you watched the clock. Watching, waiting, anticipating. Finally, Joaquin stood up from the chair and brushed his sweaty hands off on his jeans before giving one last courteous handshake and forced smile. 

He walked off set and grabbed you by the arm, leading you towards your car. He opened the door and practically pushed you in, urging you to hurry up so he could fulfill the promise he made earlier. 

“Baby, relax.” You giggled, putting your hand on his thigh reassuringly.

He turned the keys in the ignition and sped out of the parking lot, “I’ll relax when I’m balls deep inside you, Y/N.” He stated, in his assertive, blunt manner.

Being stunned and not knowing what to say to that, the rest of the ride was pretty quiet, although you swore he could hear your heart pounding inside your chest. But you’re heart wasn’t the only thing that was throbbing.

You made small talk about the interview to distract both of you from the increasing sexual tension mounting between the two of you.

Joaquin turned sharply into your driveway and practically dragged you inside by your wrist. You could almost smell his needs and desires.

Once inside, you both retreated to the kitchen. You, to get a glass of water, him, to rummage around in the fridge apparently.

“What’s that?” You asked, motioning with your head towards the brown paper bag he pulled out.

He walked over to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter and rested his hands on your hips. Then slowly letting them travel under your shirt and up your back, making you shiver, “You’re way too overdressed for the occasion.”

“What occasion?” You giggled as he unhooked your bra with ease and tossed it onto the floor. Then he grabbed your glass of water and poured it out into the sink.

“I’ve got something better.” He said, pulling away and grabbing the bag off the table. He reached in and pulled out a chilled bottle of champagne, “Tonight we’re celebrating.”

Your eyebrows furrowed curiously, “Celebrating what?”

He cornered you against the island and took your face in his hands, “How much I love you, Y/N.”

You weren’t great with words, so instead you kissed him. His lips were soft and welcoming, parting slightly to invite you to deepen the kiss. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and he lifted you onto the counter gracefully. Your hands stroked his bicep while his did the same to your thighs. 

“What are we waiting for then?” You said breathlessly, disconnecting your lips to grab the champagne and pop it open, “Let’s celebrate.” It exploded all over the two of you, foam soaking your clothing and the counter tops. 

You both laughed and took turns sipping straight from the bottle, not having time to grab champagne flutes. 

“Guess you won’t be needing this anymore.” You smirked, pulling off his shirt and discarding it on the floor where your bra lay.

“Ditto.” He followed suit and practically ripped off your shirt, “Looks like you got a little something there, let me help you.”

He began licking the champagne off your bare chest, and you wrapped your hands around his head to pull him in closer. His tongue was cold from the champagne and it made you shiver with pleasure when it flicked across your nipples.

“Fuck, Joaquin.” You moaned, locking him in with your legs. 

When he looked up at you through his thick lashes, his pupils were dilated, making his eyes seem a bit softer. You took a swig of the champagne and pulled him in for a kiss, releasing the golden liquid into his mouth. He swallowed it and continued to kiss you intensely. 

“Let’s take this into the bedroom.” He suggested as he hoisted you onto his shoulder fireman style and carried you in there, both giggling the whole way. He let himself fall backwards onto the bed, leading you to fall on top of him, tits right in his face. He latched onto your right nipple with his teeth and gently tugged it, giving the other one some attention from his fingers.

You adjusted yourself so that you were straddling him, sitting up to look him in the eyes and ask, “What do you want, baby.”

“Anything.”

You lay your palms flat on his chest, exploring the broad, muscled area before traveling lower to undo his belt. You moved off of him and onto the mattress so he could slip off his jeans. You also took off your skirt so that the both of you were left in your underwear, except he was tenting, massively. 

He crawled back on the bed on all fours and you backed into the headboard, like prey being stalked by predator. He grabbed your legs and dragged you towards him so that you were now on your back with your heels on his shoulders. He leaned into your body and started kissing your neck, gently at first, but progressively getting rougher as he ground his hips into your core.

You loved how desperate he was. It was so hot.

He continued the assault on your neck while slowly sliding your panties off and rubbing the inside of your thigh, right next to where you needed him most. He only broke the kiss to shove two of his fingers in his mouth, never breaking eye contact while he slicked them up in preparation for something you craved. 

You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly as he slowly withdrew the digits from his mouth and lowered them towards your aching pussy. 

“Don’t be nervous, kitten, I’m gonna blow your mind.” The words rolled off his tongue like honey, slow and sweet, allowing you to relax and succumb to pleasure as his fingers slowly slipped inside you.

And then he started curling them. 

“Holy fuck, Joaquin! Ah fuck!” 

He chuckled darkly as your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth hung open in pleasure. His fingers felt so good that your eyes started tearing up and you almost drooled. 

“What a good girl.” He purred, rapidly fingering you till you couldn’t form coherent sentences.

“I need you, Joaquin, please!” You begged, bucking your hips when he hit your g spot. 

“Not yet baby, I want to taste you.”

He pulled his fingers out of you and shoved them back in his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning as he licked your juices from his skin, “Fuck, kitten, you’re even better than I remember.”

You climber into his lap and licked the same fingers, faintly tasting yourself.

“I like the taste of you better.” You smirked, pushing him down on the bed and getting eye level with his cock. 

He put his hands behind his head and watched you slowly discard his boxers, gazing at his length in wonder. You would never get used to his size.

You grabbed the base in your hand and stroked him a few times before teasing his head with your tongue.

“Oh, Jesus.” He moaned, burying his fingers in your hair.

The way you eagerly sucked his cock made him buck his hips uncontrollably, until he finally pulled you up by your hair, “Slow down, baby” he chuckled, stroking your cheek, “You’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

You pulled off of him with a wet pop that made his eyes roll in pleasure. You both sat there for a second catching your breath, and before you knew it Joaquin was pounding into you.

The sound of your skin slapping was so delicious you wanted to listen to it forever. As he thrust into you, tiny groans slipped from his parted lips and made your spine tingle. He was holding your body so close to his, hitting just the right spot over and over. 

“Mm baby you’re so tight and wet and hot I want to fuck you into next week.” He moaned into your ear.

“Keep it up like this and I won’t be able to walk until next week.” You retorted.

“If you can still make sassy comments then I’m not fucking you hard enough.” He laughed, angling your hips higher and quickening his pace.

That did the trick. Every thrust elicited a tiny mewl from you as you neared your orgasm. He made an animalistic sound before emptying himself inside of you, spurt after spurt of white hot cum, making his hips jerk and falter. Though now sensitive, Joaquin kept thrusting into you until you climaxed.

He then rolled off of you and flopped onto the mattress, trying to still his breathing and come down from his high. 

You rolled onto your side and gazed at him lovingly, reaching out to brush his hair out of his face. He smiled a genuine smile and caressed your arm.

“Let’s not leave that champagne to get warm.”


End file.
